


A Never-Dwindled Dawn

by kaeorin



Series: Loki's Lullabies [73]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Lazy Mornings, Love, Morning Cuddles, Morning Routines, POV Loki (Marvel), Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-07
Updated: 2020-06-07
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24581791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaeorin/pseuds/kaeorin
Summary: Loki finds that he rather likes lazing around in bed with you.
Relationships: Loki (Marvel)/Reader
Series: Loki's Lullabies [73]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1678240
Comments: 7
Kudos: 159





	A Never-Dwindled Dawn

Ordinarily, Loki was not one for lazing about in bed. When he woke up in the morning, he always preferred to get up immediately and get on with the day. It wasn’t so much that he felt any special need to get up and tackle some mundane to-do list or anything, but it felt pointless. He’d just never liked lying around in the morning when he could have been up and moving. Even if he tried to close his eyes and drift off back to sleep, his mind would cycle through a thousand thoughts a minute until he finally pulled himself out of bed and found a way to distract himself. So when he woke up, he got up, even if his body felt like it needed a little more sleep.

That was not the case with you. Granted, when you were awake and ready for the day, you were hard-working and determined and efficient. For most of your life, you were not anything that Loki could even dream of calling ‘lazy’. But you didn’t like getting up in the morning. 

You were largely to blame for the change in Loki’s habits. Now that he was waking up beside you, he didn’t feel nearly so rushed in the mornings. As the days grew warmer, the sunlight grew brighter, even first thing in the morning, and he often caught himself pulling away from you so that he could just look at you in the light. It caressed your skin like a lover. It caught in your hair and on your cheekbones and sometimes on your shoulder when the blankets slipped down. 

You slept so peacefully. Even there, beside the likes of him. The sun could shine directly on your closed eyelids and the city traffic could ring out as though you were on the ground floor, but as long as he was close by, you slept through it all. Every once in a while, he would try to get you to wake up with him. He’d watch you sleep for a while, until the urge to get moving simply grew too strong, and then he would reach out to touch you. In your sleep, you would sigh, or moan, sometimes, and press closer to his hand. That did things to him. It was not merely your waking mind that wanted him. Even unconscious, your body craved his touch. 

Sometimes he would make his touch too light on purpose. He’d just barely brush his fingertips along the bridge of your nose, the curve of your neck. Your brows would furrow and you’d try to bat him away. It made his heart thud in his chest. If he kept it up, you would usually groan at him, sometimes mumbling his name in your warm, sleep-rough voice. These mornings were some of the only times that you _didn’t_ want him to keep touching you, but even then you didn’t fight him very hard. 

He’d sing your name back at you and touch you again. Sometimes he followed your example and threw together a simple nonsense song about waking up to greet the day. You sang to yourself often. At first, that had been utterly foreign to him, but all this time with you was making it feel more normal. When he didn’t sing, he murmured lines of poetry to you. He couldn’t always remember full poems, but Asgard had plenty of poets who wrote about the golden light of morning. Midgard did too, for that matter. Things felt more fluid here in the morning, so sometimes he combined different poems into one twisting mess of his own. He knew that you liked it when he spoke to you in his home language, so he did it often. It also had the benefit of dragging you to wakefulness. Sometimes he translated a Midgardian poem into Asgardian, and it secretly thrilled him when you recognized the cadence, if not the words themselves.

It felt like he lived for the moment that you first opened your eyes in the morning. You always did it so reluctantly, sometimes even with an audible groan, but when you did, you sought him out first thing. Then your face would soften. You would smile at him, that slow, lazy smile that reminded him of mornings with you. Some days, you closed your eyes again immediately afterwards and buried your face against his chest. On those days, he couldn’t help but laugh as he worked his fingers through your hair. You trusted him. You sought shelter against him. Sure, it was only against the light of day, but it still...did things to him. When you nestled closer to him, the rush of warmth that he felt, the affection and the all-consuming _love_ , they were often enough to convince him to let you hide away for a little while longer.

Occasionally, though, he’d wake up in a position that didn’t really let you press your face to him. He liked to sleep behind you and hold you in his arms, so there were plenty of mornings that you arched backwards into him and covered your face with your pillow. It was a little harder to embrace your sleepiness on those mornings, so he tormented you instead. He found that he quite liked letting his hands and fingers roam your body, tickling more than just your nose, and he especially liked that you didn’t fight particularly hard to make him stop. He’d kiss your neck, maybe sink his teeth carefully into your shoulder, even as his hand crept beneath your pyjamas to touch you, and you’d squirm in his arms. All you had to do to make him stop was try to roll away from him, maybe push his hand away a little harder than normal, or whine at him with a little more of an edge in your voice and he’d leave you alone, but you were always so soft and pliant. It made him suspect that you didn’t mind as much as you liked to pretend.

He didn’t always try to wake you up every morning. If you weren’t feeling well the day before, or if you’d been working too hard or being too hard on yourself, he preferred to let you sleep. Depending on how much sleep he’d gotten, he could usually lie still beside you as though he could serve as a guardian against nightmares or premature wakefulness. When you slept, it was harder for you to doubt yourself or to get caught up in the stress of the day. If he was truly certain that you were completely asleep, he’d whisper into your ear. Affirmations. Adorations. They weren’t always things that he was completely comfortable telling you when you were awake, but it was easy when you slept. When the pressure to get out of bed grew too strong, he would tuck you in and then get up, careful not to disturb you. He tried to surprise you with breakfast; often, you surprised him by wrapping your arms around him from behind as he stood at the stove.

The mornings when you woke up with him, though, were some of his favorites. You were, of course, hesitant to get out of bed, so you’d wind yourself around him, tangling your legs with his so he could not get up either. Holding you was enough to make him feel like he could be still. He’d talk to you with his mouth pressed to the top of your head, and you’d respond with yours against his neck. He could lie there with you for a long time. Waking up with you was like a blessing, even to Loki, who had never once in his life thought to hope for even a fraction of that kind of peace. 

Sometimes, on those mornings, he would slide his lips against yours. You made a bit of a fuss, at first, about your stale breath, but he showed you that he didn’t mind. He loved all of you, every bit, and on the mornings that you let him prove it to you, he was more than happy to take his time. 

He made sure that you greeted those mornings happily, with your quiet mewls and breathy gasps.


End file.
